


Forgive Them Father, For They Know Not What They Do

by Bayyvon



Category: Ninety-Nine Righteous Men (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 21:39:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12734829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayyvon/pseuds/Bayyvon
Summary: All characters belong to K.M. Claude, I just get to play around.





	Forgive Them Father, For They Know Not What They Do

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to K.M. Claude, I just get to play around.

Daniel sits quietly between his mother Karen and his brother Johnathan, fingers twiddling where they rest interlocked between his knees, eyes flicking up between Fr. Jason and the ornate ceiling. He couldn't seem to focus today, just hoped to get in and out of confessional without guilt and shame ripping him to shreds, and forcing him to drop his sinful truths into the lap of the only Catholic priest he'd ever known to be a little gossip-y with the church mothers. Fr. Jason is young, and has a striking mass of red hair, and intense green eyes, and is currently directing everyone to come up and receive communion. Daniel feels his gut twist, knees knocking together, and he fears he may fall out before he makes it to the Father. Or worse, he'll make it and feel the sudden need to expel his breakfast onto his shoes.

 

The Father holds out his hand, index and thumb pinching between them a piece of wafer that Daniel fleetingly reminds himself tastes similar to cardboard. "The body of Christ." Fr. Jason presses the thin bread inscribed with a cross onto Daniel's slightly extended tongue, and suddenly the image morphs, and Daniel remembers distinctly how Adam's fingers felt, slipped into his mouth after Daniel had made a passing joke about licking them clean of the milkshake Adam had knocked over onto himself. "A..men" Daniel's face flushes as he sips softly from the plain silver chalice, wishes it were something a bit stronger than the sparkling grape juice they gave the children. His mind conjures up the imagine of Adam peering at him over his straw, leather jacket draped across broad shoulders, blond curls tucked back with an elastic and a pair of rounded shades. He gives a devious grin, and Daniel begins to tugs uncomfortably at his shirt collar.

 

"Daniel, are you feeling alright honey?" Karen asks, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. She checks his forehead with the back of her hand, and gasps. "Oh, dear. You're burning up. Do you wanna run to the bathroom?"

 

"Ma, I'm alright. I think I just need to cool off, take a breather..." Daniel feels the heavy weight of the half-pack of cigarettes Adam had slipped him earlier that morning settling into his pocket, beckoning him to light one, even if it's just to will Adam's smell to cling to his skin. "I'll be outside."

 

He finds a secluded area where a few other people have gathered to skip out on confessional in favor of a smoke. One of them is incredibly tall, hair curling close to his ears, and Daniel feels his heart leap. And it sinks just as quickly, when he remembers Adam mentioning that he was going out of town. If he were anywhere this sunny Sunday morning, it would be there. He stays back a few feet, nearest to the building, lighting a cigarette with the blue bic Adam had also slipped him, and takes a small puff the way he watched his father and a few of his friends do. He coughs and splutters, choking mostly on air and what little smoke he had inhaled. He didn't understand the appeal, not really, but it smelled and tasted familiar. Like Adam had when he'd pressed their lips together softly behind the--

 

"Daniel!"

 

The brunet nearly leaps from his skin when someone calls his name.

 

"Adam!" The boy plays softly with his rosary as the tall blond approaches, all lean lines and smelling of menthol cigarettes and motorcycle leather. Dark shades obscure his striking blue eyes, but his supple pink smirk stays firmly in place as he corners Daniel.

 

"Good morning _, Ahuvi Sheli."_

 

"Wha-what's that mean?"

 

"That you shouldn't be smoking, _malak._ " Adam backs Daniel against the bricks, and makes sure no one is looking when he presses their lips together.

 

"I wasn't." Daniel grumbles, a hot blush creeping back up his neck. "I lit it 'cause it smells like you," He admits begrudgingly.

 

"Oh, _yaqar,_ if you wanted to smell me, you could've called. That can be arranged, y'know." Adam drops a kiss behind Daniel's ear and snatches the dwindling smoke from between his shaking fingers. "I'll teach you how to shotgun, one day. Much more pleasant than direct filter contact." The boy winks from over the rim of his sunglasses, and turns to leave.

 

"Adam!" Daniel clutches the leather sleeve of Adam's jacket, "Are we meeting, tonight?"

 

"Of course," Adam smiles, and begins to tie his hair back. "Leave your window unlocked."

 

"Definitely."

 

 

It's well past midnight when the squeal of the window in it's pane, and the _clunk_ of boots rouses Daniel from his sleep. The world comes slowly into focus, sleep still tugging at the corners of his vision. The smell of blood is alarming, however, and suddenly everything is sharp and hyperfocused as he fights to make out shapes in the dark. Adam is close by, he can tell by the smell, and the warmth. He was. Perched. On the edge of Daniel's bed, rubbing at his neck.

 

"Adam?"

 

"Go back to sleep, Angel."

 

"No," Daniel crawls from beneath his achingly warm comforter to settle beside Adam, who is wind-chilled and shivering. He finally turns to meet Daniel's gaze, and the soft orange from the streetlamp illuminates one half of the blond's face. He looked.  _Rough._  He had an unlit cigarette in his trembling hand, and Daniel nearly loses his composure when the full picture comes together. Blood weeped from the cuts across his face, and there's a strange pattern caked in mud across the taller boy's neck. With sickening guilt, Daniel realizes much too late that it's shoe tread, and Adam is nearly doubled over in his attempt to breathe through a thick wet haze.

 

"Jesus, Adam."

 

He cautiously reaches for the cigarette, tucking it behind his own ear, before taking the empty hand in both of his own, if for no other reason than to steady the tremor.

 

Adam won't talk about it, whatever it was, just asks, in the most gentle manner, if he can hold Daniel for a while.

 

Daniel starts hours later, sitting straight up and looking around wildly. Adam. _where ...?_

A note is stuck to the window, jagged, rushed handwriting avoiding lines or neatness altogether, reads:

 

_~~i love~~  thank you angel _

_willoughs_

_two thirty_

 

_-A_

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, yeah, i know, it's hebrew, leave me alone. Don't question the time period too much, I dont know either. This is unbeta'd as fuck.


End file.
